


Why Can't We Be Three

by Shamione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Multi, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: One was her unlikely best mate, the other a longtime love newly her fiance. And Hermione felt utterly barmy nestled between the two in the back of a pub, the wrong man's hand toying with the waistband of her shorts. But if her fiance didn't mind, who was she to deny that two could become three? Who was she to refuse her fiance the pleasure that she, too, so desperately craved?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 42
Kudos: 303
Collections: 2020 Sounds Like Dramione, Completed/Downloaded/Read Works





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [2020SoundsLikeDramione](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2020SoundsLikeDramione) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.
> 
> **The prompt for my story is:**
> 
> "Saying to me--"What can we do now that we both love you",  
> I love you too-- I don't really see  
> Why can't we go on as three"
> 
> Triad - Jefferson Airplane
> 
> **Winner:** Whole Lotta Love - Best Triad  
>  **Runner-Up:** That's My Story - Best Use of Prompt

"Sweetie, it's been so nice having you here tonight."

"I'm sorry I don't come by more often, mum," Hermione responded, supping a small portion of wine from her long-stem glass.

"Don't apologize! Your father and I understand how occupied you are with planning the wedding."

"Don't remind me of the wedding. It keeps spiraling out of control," Hermione groaned.

"It is your wedding, dear. You get to decide how it proceeds."

"Not when Harry refuses to say no when anyone asks to attend!"

"How is Harry doing, Peaches? I assumed we'd see him tonight," her father, Philip, sought. 

"He's doing well. He and Draco just left on assignment to France. It could be a week before they're able to return."

"I'm sure he'll get it sorted quickly. Always has been on top of it," Philip grinned, taking a long pull from a tumbler filled with whiskey that Harry gifted him the prior year.

"The two of you haven't traveled in quite some time. Are you planning any trips before the wedding?" Helen, her mother, questioned.

"I believe Draco wishes to go to Romania on a dragon excursion later this year," Hermione smiled.

"That sounds like fun! Dragons! I'll never get used to it!" Her mother squealed.

"One of Draco's few fascinations."

"You know, Peaches, you speak of Draco as if you're marrying him," her father chortled.

And although she perceived her father's quip as lighthearted, Hermione's heart rattled against its cage, her breath catching in her throat as her mother's giggle reverberated throughout the room. She sensed her eyes widen slightly as her jaw slackened in astonishment, and a measure of disquiet undulated within her. It was like a particular sort of nightmare coming to life.

Someone recognizing she possessed emotions other than friendship toward Draco Malfoy.

"I… that's absurd, dad," she stammered somewhat gobsmacked, unable to produce a coherent retort.

"Of course," her father chuckled. "You merely fawn over him as you do Harry."

"Well, he's our best friend," she rushed out.

"Who lives with you. Travels with you on his vacations that you plan."

"I… No, dad…" Hermione sputtered anew, her hands perspiring under the gravity of her father's words.

Her paranoia had grown significantly over the past two months, fueled by perceptions that her infatuation had been visible. That her desire for Draco trailed every word she spoke or each glance she took. And it generally made her ill thinking of such treason of Harry and his generosity and affection.

But the exhilaration she knew when she simply glimpsed at Draco couldn't be overlooked.

It started slowly, taking ages for Hermione to apprehend the depths of her feelings. To realize what the jealousy meant when Draco's arm wrapped around another woman. What the flutters in her abdomen exposed as they chatted about books, new and old. To understand the sensation of satisfaction she keened from seeing their image on the Daily Prophet's front page.

She recalled the day vividly nine years ago, just after the war. A clear vision of Draco minutes following his trial shuffling through the Ministry's atrium as a slew of cameras flashed about him haunted her. He'd been punished with probation for his crimes against the wizarding world, though Hermione knew he helped more than he had harmed.

Lucius sauntered out after him, a self-righteous, false atmosphere of sophistication and superiority provided by too many galleons placed into the appropriate hands to prevent him from Azkaban once again.

Days later, she and Harry stumbled upon a staggeringly inebriated Draco in a muggle pub following Ron's funeral. It hadn't taken long to discern Lucius had disinherited his only son from the ramblings that blundered past his lips. Likely due to Draco's voluntary participation in the capture of Rodolphus Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov.

Harry's bleeding heart overflowed that evening after learning all of Draco's Slytherin mates had turned their backs to him. He offered the downtrodden ex-heir a chamber within the vacant halls of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black's Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, without a second thought.

Draco had been extremely reluctant to accept outright. However, as his meager funds diminished just weeks before Hermione returned to Hogwarts for her final year, he appeared on the sidewalk outside Grimmauld Place.

Noiselessly brooding in the dreich, sights darting about for a destination she knew he wouldn't discover. It was dispiriting at the time, and Hermione's heart had torn for him as she opened the door, beckoning him into her and Harry's lives. Watching him swallow a pride that she knew ran bone-deep to seek a life-altering kindness of his once enemy. 

And the first several days of their odd trioship had been strained, to say the least.

Draco appeared to be nocturnal; Hermione seldom witnessed him throughout the daytime but observed him in the library more than once well past three in the morning. Four nights in a row, he had scampered by her from the library's doors after a pleasantry or two, wholly blue and perhaps a bit defeated.

The fifth evening, the chamber was soundless as Hermione trod through, flicking her wand to ignite the hearth a touch. Though, he startled her an hour into reading as he perched on the opposite end of the long sofa. He presented her a mug of tea the precise way she preferred it - with a splash of milk and two sugars - before sighing loudly.

And spent the subsequent hour that night bringing Hermione to tears as he apologized for his actions. For his inactions that provoked her torture. Atoned for each move for which he had been responsible, and many he hadn't. She quietly sobbed as he rose, leaving her alone before her tears subsided or any words were able to slip her lips.

He appeared the following night, filling the couch opposite her stiffly. She'd considered him for a prolonged while as he read before almost imperceptibly muttering _I forgive you,_ grasping any additional acknowledgment might deteriorate whatever fragile psyche they both endured. He met her gaze with knitted brows, nodded sharply once, and continued to read.

They spent each subsequent twilight in companionable quietness, skimming through the pages of ancient, previously unused texts, only speaking two phrases to one another: hello and goodbye.

She traveled back to Hogwarts on the 1st of September as Head Girl, highly hesitant to leave the two men on their own. However, she returned wholly astounded during her first weekend visit at how close the two unlikely friends had become. Laughing together merrily drunk, supping Firewhiskey and playing Exploding Snaps on a dreary Friday afternoon.

The lingering stigma of the darkness marring his arm made it challenging for Draco to secure a job years after the war. After months of watching Draco flounder in and out of various employments anticipating a response from the Ministry, Hermione found herself in Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. She screeched at the top of her lungs about fairness, rightness, and the importance of second opportunities. About leaving an individual's history in the past when they've demonstrated a sincere intention to change.

Draco's approved application for Auror training arrived the subsequent day, and he embraced her tightly in utter relief and appreciation as he hugged her for the first time. 

Although his first few months on the job were gut-wrenching, the further time moved from the war, the more his colleagues respected him. Outside of his flourishing career, their unexpected friendship blossomed. What started as reading silently beside one another plunged into in-depth, nightly conversations of statutes and laws, potions recipes and old school stories, likes and dislikes, fears and regrets. 

He accompanied her on various excursions that Harry found himself incapable of attending as his position elevated to Head Auror. Draco was by her side at the reopening of Flourish and Blotts. He escorted her to a handful of Ministry functions and even a few Gryffindor birthday parties, at which he had become a hit. Museums, both muggle and the freshly endowed wizarding establishment, bookshops, and even muggle protests for civil rights.

Everywhere she found herself without Harry, Hermione welcomed her new partner's presence.

The days following Narcissa's passing late last year had been dreadful. Although he kept in touch with his mother via owl, their relationship waned as the years passed. But their partial estrangement didn't prevent him from tumbling to the carpet in thick sobs as he studied the note delivered by a Malfoy house-elf.

Hermione's arms encompassed him that evening, stroking his hair while he mourned into her middle. He'd fallen asleep well into the twilight hours, and Hermione had ventured to sneak away to her room. But his hold tightened around her waist as his feeble voice begged with her to stay. To not leave him alone.

And that was the first night they shared a bed.

Just over a week after Narcissa's funeral, to which he received no invite, a solicitor emerged on the pathway in front of Grimmauld Place. A note addressed to Draco notified him of the rather bountiful inheritance in his name that Narcissa had slowly swindled from Lucius over the years since his ostracization.

He'd been astounded, to put it mildly, and had wept anew. Whether they were tears of melancholy or happiness, Hermione wasn't sure, but she felt her mind race at the prospect. He'd undoubtedly move out of Grimmauld and find his own flat to begin his life outside of she and Harry's. And her eyes moistened as she regarded him.

Instead, Draco surprised her with a Portkey bound for a Fiji holiday, which she hadn't had to plan. Harry accompanied them on the weeks' long getaway, and the three relished a joyous drunken week on crystal clear waters. But early into their second week of leisure, an owl showed calling Harry away on Auror business, to which he had refused Draco's company.

So she and her best mate spent their final week in Fiji together, investigating caves and jumping off waterfalls. Snorkeling across fish-filled reefs and stepping over fired rocks. Getting drunk together after dinners and sneaking into the restricted resort pool, uproariously giggling as they splashed one another until they had been run out by security.

And tumbled into bed together, cuddled close as they watched a genuinely awful movie on the tele. Eating fruits and cheeses and sipping overpriced wine, giggling together as Draco's arm slipped around her waist. As his gaze lingered on her lips before his cheeks crimsoned bright red.

That was the second night they slept entangled in a bed together.

And she found herself fantasizing about that night many long months later. Of what his lips might have felt like and how her body would have reacted to his gentle caresses on her thighs. Wondering if he would have pulled her hair as they kissed or nibbled her neck as they made love. Daydreaming of how he would have taken her if she had begged for his embrace.

But it wasn't until the moment he brought Lisa Turpin into their home just two months ago, with an introduction as his girlfriend, that Hermione understood the extent to which she did care. A fire of jealousy and immediate resentment burned through her fingertips as she shook the brunette-haired bimbo's hand. A rage blazed behind her eyes as her Draco Malfoy held another woman in his lap with a sappy smile.

Their connection felt newly transformed after that night. Where Hermione had once been able to hug him happily, her heart now galloped and made her nauseous. Where she'd been capable of relaxing silently with him to read, she found herself assailed with anger as she envisioned his rendezvous with a woman that wasn't her. Where she had freely shared her life with him, their interactions now felt pressured.

A battle between her jealousy and staunch refusal to admit she loved him regularly raged each time he smiled at her.

How could she love Draco? She was engaged to and in love with the man she had been best friends with since age eleven. And they were gloriously happy.

Harry was an unconventional sort of handsome. Hair never complying with any of its commands. His thin-framed glasses always pressed indentations on a nose that had been broken by a once-enemy and shabbily mended. He possessed an aura about him, strong yet somehow so soft. So caring.

When Ron had gawked fire into Hermione's eyes before abandoning her and Harry alone on their Horcrux hunt, her thoughts had been relatively unexpected. Ron, who she believed she cherished at the time, had driven her into an ultimatum: leave with him or suffer alongside Harry.

And as she peered into Harry's unyielding emerald eyes, she recognized for the first time that she would die for him when put to the test. Not Ron. She would preserve everything that Harry was because if he perished, she wouldn't know how to live. She would rather endure endless abysmal days with him than leave him on his own to rot.

It took she and Harry more than a year to start dating after the Battle of Hogwarts and Ron's death. He went into Auror training after the war, and she traveled to Australia to recover her parents' memories. And then to Hogwarts for her eighth year.

And finally, three months after leaving Hogwarts, Harry proposed their first genuine date. At which she found herself too nervous to speak although they had been best mates for almost ten years.

He was entirely adorable that night, a perfect atmosphere of charm gracing his every action. Leaving her somewhat breathless and completely flushed as they apparated home to Grimmauld. By the conclusion of their evening, they sat cuddled together on the couch, Draco at the opposite end, watching the tele as typical. And she had moved into a spare bedroom three months later as Harry and Draco's third roommate.

That was roughly seven years ago.

When she first moved in, Hermione had occupied her own room, leaving a touch of modesty between them. He'd knock on her door before their dates, offering her a flower. As if picking her up from a flat in which she lived on her own. He'd sweep her off her feet to modest dinners, some within Wizarding London but most in the muggle world for their privacy.

They slept separate for months, kissing goodnight before adjourning to their own rooms. Until their first time, together and in all, when he used every cliché romantic card in the book. Showering Hermione with champagne and flowers, rose petals on the bed as candles lit the bedroom. He'd been loving, and it had only lasted minutes, but she refused to sleep outside of his room after that evening.

Their first four years together had been incredible, and halfway to their fifth anniversary, Harry was offered a promotion to Head Auror. Hermione had been extremely wary of her barely 24 years old boyfriend being expected to lead a team of grown witches and wizards in hunting the Dark. And had made known her concerns that he hadn't healed himself enough to shoulder further darkness.

That was their first real fight, and the first time he had actually shouted at her. Accusing her of not supporting him, not believing in him.

He stormed from the front door as she stood, face hardened, at the stairs' precipice. She refused to shed a tear for worrying after the man she loved, rightfully so. Until the door slammed shut, and she couldn't contain it any longer. She mourned deeply that night between fits of anger and bitterness. And when she awoke the next daybreak, she was still alone.

Harry arrived home about midday, tears welling in his eyes as he drew her in close. Profuse apologies tumbling in a shaking voice as he held her. Begging her to forgive him, which she had, as her own regrets melded with his as they admixed.

He accepted the promotion the next day and had unquestionably flourished in his career. And while Hermione still held a measure of uncertainty each time he left on assignment, she could see the joy in his eyes when he returned. Could see the happiness he felt when stamping out darkness throughout all of Britain and beyond.

Reflective of the love that he bestowed her each time that he eyed her with a happy smile.

They rarely fought after that night, and although he became further occupied with work, he invariably sought to keep company with her. Hermione savored every moment that her then-boyfriend could grant and strived to not lament the hours and days he spent elsewhere.

Harry's proposal three short months ago had been unexpected. The Potter family ring rested snuggly in a small black box as he sank to one knee overlooking the Shrieking Shack in the snow. She had been ecstatic, her mind blanking as he recited his love, shrieking yes before her lips did. Hermione was hauled into Hog's Head afterward, where Draco, the Weasley family, and a slew of Gryffindors sat awaiting their arrival, magical poppers exploding on their entrance.

But by all accounts, her father was correct. And she could have endured her whole life without knowing her treacherous infatuation was evident.

She had two future husbands, even if every fiber of consciousness urged her to stop glorifying one and concentrate on the other. They both kept a place within her heart, for differing reasons, and she couldn't see her life without both holding her, spending time with her, loving her.

But that didn't stop the swirl of guilt and yearning she'd endured over the past two months as the realization of her feeling for Draco became well established. Didn't stop her from holding a sense of betrayal as she reflected over Harry. She couldn't stave the sensation of selfishness that invaded her as she craved them to agree they all three belonged together.

"Oh, quit teasing the girl, Philip!" Helen snorted, slapping his shoulder, drawing Hermione from her reverie.

"She's got two husbands, Helen!" Her father snorted a bit drunkenly, and Hermione could feel the small line of water that rippled over her lower eyelid.

"Oh, I'm sure Draco will move out when they're married," her mother tutted, playfully swatting his shoulder again. "Right, dear?"

"I… we haven't talked about it," Hermione grimaced.

"I'm sure he will move soon."

"I was only teasing, Peaches," her father uttered, his sights finally settling on her with concern.

"I know. Of course, I know," Hermione sighed shakily, wishing she was at home with Harry and Draco, nestled between them on the couch, watching the tele and laughing as they usually did.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hermione!"

"Granger!"

The fading sounds of the floo followed the chorus of her name harmonized by the two men she missed with deep desperation. A smile crept over Hermione's lips as she shut her novel, hopping off the window ledge that her men had enchanted to overlook the gardens as she read. Five week. They had been gone for five weeks, and her heart was swelling at the sounds of their voices.

Her footsteps were soft but swift as she bounded down the stairs, greeted with a sight of two towering, husky men carrying radiant grins. Harry and Draco occupied the middle of the sitting room, looking a bit dirty and a touch thin, but she couldn't look elsewhere. They resembled gods among men standing in flimsy, grimy shirts and jeans, her fiancé’s dark skin reflecting off her best mate's pale surface, as they both beamed at her.

"You're finally home!" Hermione gleamed, lofting into Harry as he enveloped his arms about her waist.

"Merlin, I missed you," he sighed, drawing her in close, his hand slipping into her back pockets.

"I missed you too," she whispered, kissing him heatedly before leaning backward.

"We're sorry it took so long," Draco stated, pulling her into a hug as Harry stepped aside with a satisfied simper.

Hermione permitted herself to be driven upward onto the tips of her bare toes, winding her arms about Draco's neck as his slid low about her waistline. His sturdy hold brought her in close as he nuzzled the crook of her throat some, sighing contentedly.

No matter how much she explained to herself that she shouldn't want him, over a full month of his absence had jostled her emotions. She yearned for him almost as frantically as Harry. And five weeks without his presence, their nearness, had left a deep hole in her psyche. Five weeks without both of them left her utterly needy.

But her father's words rang in her ears, and she sensed a warm blush cover her features. Nausea built as Draco's silky breath ghosted over her skin, prickling goose flesh in its wake. She swallowed somewhat thickly, sinking down onto the soles of her feet with a shy smile, hurrying away. And the expression on his face attested she had drawn apart too soon.

"Hog's Head?" Harry asked gleefully.

"I certainly need a drink," Draco sighed.

"You've just gotten home! I've missed you. I want to spend time with you!" Hermione pleaded, angling toward Harry.

"You're coming with us, obviously," Harry grinned. "So, go get ready."

"Have you even eaten?"

"Some apples," Harry shrugged.

"I don't know how you survive without me," Hermione admonished. "There's lasagna in the fridge. Go eat. Both of you!"

"Okay, mum," Draco responded with sass, nudging her with his arm as he walked by, her face flushing further as Harry trailed him with a chuckle.

"And take showers!" She demanded, wandering up the stairs to her and Harry's bedroom.

Hermione let herself linger under the hot water of her shower for a time, happiness flooding her as the day and deep-seated pining rinsed away. Until Harry sauntered through the door, discarding his clothing swiftly with a carnal grin.

He wasted no time after joining her before pushing her against the tile, his fingers slipping into her warm slit. She came once before he held her leg up high, sliding his thick member into her as he kissed her neck. He was rough and fast, and she came moments before he did, biting his shoulder as her knee shook and her shrieks played over the running water.

He shooed her from the shower after, instructing her to get ready, her desire lingering at his well-formed dominance. He was showered and shaved well before her hair was dry, rapping her bum lightly with a wink as he swept from the bathroom. And their room was long deserted by the time she thumbed through her wardrobe, exploring an outfit for them.

Hermione smirked as she pulled on a pair of shorts that sat a little too high on her thighs. And a flowing, shimmering silver camisole that flaunted her cleavage a touch more than typical. Flicking her wand toward her hair, it coiled into a high, loose bun exposing the graceful lines of her neck as she brushed mascara over her lashes.

Sliding on a somewhat taller than average pair of wedges she had bought on a whim, Hermione spritzed a dab of perfume on her top and sashayed down the stairs.

She missed them. And she wanted to ensure they knew what they had missed, too.

Draco's smooth but fiery gaze met her as he rose from the sofa, eyes scanned her form deliberately, hungrily, before searing against hers. He'd changed; his ratty shirt exchanged for a freshly pressed replacement and an unspoiled pair of jeans. The tattoos on his arms glowed upon his pale skin as he held out a colorful hand to her, beckoning her with his index finger.

He wore his blonde tresses pushed back loosely, cut low on the sides and fluffy along the crest, begging for fingers to be raked through. A familiar pair of black-framed glasses perched on his pointed nose as his sharp, bearded jawline lifted imperceptibly.

His eyes studied her once more as she strode languidly into his space, running her fingers along his palm. His hand closed about hers, and Hermione welcomed her blush as a lascivious grin smeared across his lips.

"You look divine, Granger," he said gruffly, and her heart pulsated in her ears, her already sensitive clit twitching a bit.

No matter how much she shouldn't want him, or how self-conscious she had felt since apprehending her feelings, she couldn't deny it. She craved him. Wanted him as more than just a mate. He winked at her once, sliding his hand around her waist to draw her closer as the swirl of lust and recklessness coursed through her.

The kitchen door swung open then, startling her backward as Harry bounded through, finishing a tumbler of whiskey. He set the empty glass on top of the mantle, eyed them once with an odd smirk and lifted eyebrow before pulling out their bag of floo powder, waving it lightly.

"Let's go!" Harry proclaimed, tossing a handful into the fire and swirling away without a second glance.

"Thank you," Hermione said, chuckling lowly at her fiancé’s typical behavior.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," she simpered softly, nodding as he set a hand on her lower spine, guiding her to the floo.

* * *

Their first night home went like so many others, the three of them occupying the back of a pub under a notice-me-not charm for solitude. She found herself nestled betwixt their bodies per usual, each alternating turns throwing an arm over her shoulder and tugging her close.

They were both drunk well before midnight, as they typically were on a weekend evening, and she couldn't help but smile at them. At their similarities. And their stark differences. At their boisterous laughter as they regaled her with stories of their past month.

"Another?" Harry urged, and Draco swirled the remnants of his pint.

"Yeah," Draco countered, downing the meager contents and handing Harry the empty.

"No, thank you," Hermione asserted.

"Be right back," Harry smiled, spinning and meandering to the bar.

A familiar silence of uncertainty settled on her chest then, between her and Draco. Not trusting herself to discourse in fear of uttering something flagrant in her slightly drunken state, she merely sighed. Draco stepped a bit closer into her, his sandalwood and citrus scent sending fission of desire down her spine, and the flutter of desire in her gut couldn't be overlooked.

Couldn't be simply forgotten.

"So," he started.

"Have a nice day?" Hermione squealed loudly and winced.

"It got better," he chuckled, pushing a curl that had fallen from her bun behind her ear.

Maybe she was reading into everything incorrectly. She'd spent the last five weeks debating with her own heart that she was perceiving her feelings and Draco's actions mistakenly. He couldn't possibly be in love with her. They were merely companions, and had been for nearly as long as she had been dating Harry. And those two were best mates.

His light touches didn't mean anything, she strived to convince herself as his hand brushed against hers. He was simply an affectionate person and bestowed it with hugs. Or smiles that melted her heart. Or unsolicited compliments. Or clutching her hip. Or whispering into her ear. Or holding her tight to his chest, nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

She felt insane as her heartbeat filled her ears, the pulse point on her neck thumping obviously. She couldn't rationalize any of this. Her brain must simply be tricking her into perceiving notions that weren't there. Creating scenarios that fit her fantasies. That was the only logical explanation.

Draco had his girlfriend, regardless of how annoyingly air-headed she was, and Hermione had Harry.

"You okay, Granger?" Draco sought, and Hermione discerned that her silent stare had been boring a hole into her shoes.

"What makes you ask?" She offered shakily.

"You typically amuse me with the book you're reading when Potter walks away," Draco spoke with a laugh.

"Oh, uh… nothing good to read right now, I suppose."

"'Nothing good to read'? Ha!"

"I'm fine," Hermione stammered.

"Are you sure? You've been acting... distant."

"Yes, Draco, I'm fine."

"Okay, okay."

Draco nudged her hip with his own then, a melodious laugh gliding past his lips, and she sputtered on her own spit. Gods, why did his hip feel like an iceberg crashing into a ton of steel. Breaking open anything in its path to drown her in desire.

And why did her father have to mention anything? She could have lived her whole life merely hoping no one noticed her infatuation. But the knowledge it may be exposed, visible, somehow made it so much harder to hide. Made it entirely embarrassing.

"How are your parents?"

"What?" Hermione yelped, fearful he had somehow read her mind as he shifted the topic to her line of thought.

"You went to dinner with them while we were gone, correct?"

"Oh, yes. They're fine. Dad loves the whiskey that you two got him."

"I knew he would," Draco smiled again, and her breath caught in her throat.

Had he always been this gorgeous? Had his smile always been so delicate and inviting? Had his shoulders always been so broad? Merlin, being away from him for weeks and seeing him again, was like viewing an artistic masterpiece for the first time. Like seeing Mona Lisa's smile sparkle under the lights of the Louvre as a starry-eyed child.

"Here ya go, mate," Harry grinned, sweeping up suddenly and handing Draco a pint of beer.

"Thanks."

"I'll be right back!" Hermione shouted somewhat, startling her own self as she took a few steps away, trying to shield her heated cheeks.

"You okay?" Harry questioned.

"Nothing good to read, apparently," Draco chortled, and she felt her face flame further.

"Merlin, woman. You and books, I swear," Harry giggled drunkenly.

"I'll be right back!" She squeaked again, and her feet couldn't carry her fast enough to the loo.

To her luck, the men's restroom was vacant, so she ducked inside, trying to calm her racing heart. Wetting her hands with cold water, she firmly pressed her palms to her cheeks, squishing her mouth roughly in the mirror as the water sought to cool her skin. And her heart.

Five weeks. They had only been away for five weeks, and somehow Hermione's desire had reduced her to a bleeding mess of hormones. Even after her and Harry's romp in the shower, she felt excitement loitering within. And Gods, having them pass her back and forth, arms around her shoulder or waist, fingers treading her skin, wasn't helping.

If it had only been Harry, maybe she wouldn't crave to hate herself by how aroused the night had already made her. But Draco's blatant role in her current lustfulness was apparent. Merlin, she needed another drink if she was going to outlive this night.

Hermione inhaled deeply thrice before splashing a touch more water on her face and exiting the restroom. The bartender who helped her as she marched up to the bar was somewhat fanatically excited as she poured Hermione three modest tumblers of Firewhiskey. Which the Golden Girl drank promptly with a grimace, depositing a few galleons on the counter while lingering near the bar as the numbness of whiskey settled into her toes.

"There's our girl!" Draco grinned as she rejoined her men, twirling her and enveloping an arm about her waist as he tucked her into his side.

"Find something to read on the loo, 'Mi?" Harry cackled.

"No!" She lamented.

"Lots of muggles read on the toilet, I'm told," Draco added with a sly grin.

"I was not reading in the loo!"

"I should hope not. It's not nice to hog the toilet for more than a chapter at a time," Harry guffawed.

Draco fell into the tall barstool behind her as her men's loud howling reverberated around their small space. His legs caged her in, his knee brushing her thigh as his hand fell to her hip. Underneath the fabric of her shirt, brushing delicately upon her skin as it habitually did this late into their evening.

Causing her knickers to moisten instantly.

Hermione shuddered somewhat but attempted to disguise it as Draco's fingers traced lightly over the expanse of her hip. A throaty chuckle sounded behind her as if he had sensed her body's reaction, and his hand cupped her side, grasping firmly. Her body quaked lightly as his thumb rubbed deliberately upon the smooth surface of her spine, pressing in and massaging some of the tightness that she held in her form.

The more he drank, the more affectionate Draco tended to become. It would start with a light brush of her hand. Or bumps of her hip with his. An arm around her shoulder, holding her close. Gentle kisses to her temple that she tried to tell herself meant nothing.

Until his hand roused to tease her skin, commencing around her neck. Roaming her shoulders as she shivered. Descending to her thigh or back as she strived to hide deep inhales. Fingers gliding under her shirt and toying with her senses. All while Harry watched on with what generally appeared to be a clueless gaze.

Draco drew her backward then, nestled firmly between his legs as he sipped his pint. She could feel his chest press against her with each deep breath he took. Exhales that flittered over her skin, trailing goose flesh along her neck. Crimsoning her appearance as her core pulsed with enthusiasm.

"I like this perfume," he murmured, his hand wrapping around her middle, trailing feather-light fingernails over the creamy skin of her stomach.

"Thank you," she sighed shakily, her body betraying her as she drifted further into him, squeezing her thighs together to quell the touch of desire thumping in her lower gut.

His fingers danced along the hem of her shorts, tickling further warmth into her womanhood. Light caresses that felt like pure flames on her soul, exasperated by the whiskey in her system. He snickered lightly, and his cinnamon coated breath swept against her skin. He pressed a gentle kiss to her jaw, and she sighed, her head rolling away to allow him admittance.

He chuckled darkly as his nose grazed upon her throat, and she could feel the grin on his lips as they smoothed across her skin. And she found herself somewhat incapable of breathing as his lips compressed against her. He peppered a few soft and sensual, dangerous kisses to the nape of her neck, and she wanted to hate herself for her desire. But the cloudiness in her head wouldn't allow it.

If anyone could see them beyond her notice-me-not, she and Draco likely looked the picture-perfect couple. Embraced in a passionate moment, his mouth on her throat as his hand threatened to slip into her knickers.

Until Harry leaned over and kissed her passionately, his hand cupping her neck as Draco's hold tightened on her abdomen, his fingers clutching her as his tongue flicked across her skin. Hermione had to actively hinder the deep moan her body tried to quiver as her cunt pulsated at their twofold touch.

Harry had a beautiful, wanton smirk on his lips as he pulled back, shoving in for one more slow kiss before pulling away with a salacious grin.

Hermione hadn't been this turned on in years: Harry's lips and his heated gaze; Draco's firm grasp on her hip as his knee brushed her thigh and his tongue explored her neck.

And she was utterly mortified at the sensation of pure passion that rolled over her as her mind cleared.

Gods, what had she allowed to happen? What was Harry allowing to happen? Her eyes widened somewhat as she lurched forward, out of the dangerous game they all seemed to be playing. Draco's gaze resembled absolute lust as their eyes met, and she felt a deep blush swell up her neck.

But the oddest element was the desperately lascivious look on Harry's face also as he contemplated her.

"Time to go, gentlemen," Hermione stated on a jagged exhale.

"Aw, mum! Come on!" Harry chuckled, and Draco snorted beside him as a breathless laugh left his lips.

"You're both drunk. Let's go," Hermione demanded.

"One more, Granger! Then we can go eat cake," Draco said with a bright smile.

"Draco, it is nearly two in the morning. Nowhere is open that serves cake."

"Maybe we've got a cake at home?" Harry hiccupped.

"We definitely have whiskey at home," Draco shouted as he stood. "You're right, Granger! Home it is!"

He stumbled forward and slung an arm about her shoulder, leaning into her. Harry grinned brightly as he drank the rest of his beer, slamming the pint glass down on top of their table before grasping her hand. He laced their fingers and hauled her toward the floo, Draco lazily walking along beside her.

Nuzzling her throat and she couldn't decide if the flutters in her stomach were craving or guilt.

"Draco, you have a girlfriend. And I've...," she said quietly as Harry stepped into the floo, spinning away.

"So," he whispered into her hair, his arm tightening around her neck as he leaned in closer.

And it made her toes curl. She felt a knot of desire soak her knickers further as a jagged breath left her lips. A pleasure she realized she hadn't truly explored coursed through her as Draco's arm restrained her breaths.

"Ss… so," was all she could muster as he pulled away, his arm uncurling from around her throat.

"So," he smirked deeply, and warmth spread straight to her femininity.

He was so sexy. So masculine. So manly. A latent lust bubbled to the surface more often than not, which he held so much control over that it was overwhelming. His firm hand trailed down Hermione's arm until his callused fingers laced with hers.

"Let's go home," he said quietly, lightly trailing a single finger against her thigh's bare expanse.

* * *

"Merlin, took you long enough!" Harry sounded as he walked through the swinging kitchen door, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two tumblers in the other.

"Good choice, Potter!" Draco commended, uncurling himself from Hermione and falling into the sofa cushions.

"When do I ever make a bad choice in whiskey, ferret?" Harry laughed, sinking into the armchair opposite the couch.

"You two need to go to bed, not drink more!" Hermione bemoaned.

"We had a long week!" Harry lamented.

"I've tried to stop you. So your hangovers aren't on me," Hermione tutted.

"Of course not! They're on Potter!" Draco snorted.

"You two are ridiculous. I'm going to bed."

"No! Hang out!" Draco wailed, reaching for her hand to try and pull her into the couch.

"I'm tired. I will see you both about what? 3 p.m. tomorrow?" Hermione laughed.

"Fine," Draco pouted.

"Good night, you two," she said hastily.

"Night, night," Harry sang, popping the cork from his whiskey with a grin.

"Mate, you didn't even give her a kiss!" Draco lamented.

"She knows I love her," he countered.

"I'd snog her any time I could if I were you," Draco returned, and they both chuckled aloud again.

But Hermione could swear her heart was going to jump from her chest. What in Morgana's saggy tits had Draco just said? And Harry was just laughing along? As if his best mate hadn't plainly admitted desiring to snog his fiancé senseless. As if his best mate hadn't nearly shagged her in the back of a bar as he watched?

She could only hope they would both forget their night as she ran up the stairs into her and Harry's bedroom, closing the door loudly behind her.

Hermione's breaths were profound as she tried to soothe herself. Her heart boxed upon her ribs as her mind raced with implication. The feeling of Draco's long fingers danced across her lower abdomen, a ghost of his touch fluttering across her thighs and her womanhood. As Harry's passionate kiss impressed her lips once more.

She sighed intensely then, pacing toward her shared bed as she slipped from her clothes, seeking her sleep attire. But the crisp air hardened her nipples and dusted a fresh layer of goose flesh along her form, and her cunt throbbed.

Hermione bit her lip gently as she drove her knickers down, welcoming the trail of wetness as it painted against her inner thighs. She was utterly aroused, understandably so. Draco's touches, Harry's kisses. Draco's firm grasp around her throat. Gods, it had been so overwhelming.

Hermione trailed both hands along her thighs after discarding her soaked knickers, rubbing and grasping firmly where her legs joined her pelvis. Moaning as her desire rippled in her fingertips. Withdrawing her wand, she glimpsed at the door and locked it quickly before relaxing into the bed, only one thought on her mind.

Of releasing the tension and the pleasure that bubbled behind her clit.

She wailed softly as her own hand trailed down her body, palming her bust. Wondering what Draco's rough fingers would feel like as he grasped her breast. Would he be gentle like Harry, who paid particular attention to her nipples with a delicate tongue? Or would he be rough, biting her skin as her legs trembled beneath him?

Another faint cry crossed her lips as she rolled her nipple between her fingers, her right hand slipping fully down and pushing pressure into her apex. Her slit tensed under the fever of her fingers, and she could feel her arousal slid down her skin.

This wasn't the first time she had fucked herself to the thought of Harry and Draco. But she was most assuredly far wetter than she had ever been. Five weeks of pure lust begging her to rerelease, Harry's romp in the shower not enough to sate her desires.

Hermione shifted her fingers into her folds, clamping her clit between two knuckles and slowly pulsing her fingers. Her cunt wept as another frisson of pleasure soaked her hole, two fingers teasing her opening as she bit her lip. Tantalizing herself as her hips pleaded with her own hands to circle harder. Quicker. Heavier.

She began lightly, rolling three fingers upon her apex with a delicate rotation of her hips. Envisioning Draco's lips on her ear as he commanded her to moan. Imagining his fingers taunting her before driving two deep within. Picturing Harry's hold on her neck and his fingers rubbing her clit as Draco fingered her ruthlessly.

Her pace quickened as her knees shook, visions of her true desires playing behind her closed, hazy eyes. Hermione could already feel a deep seed of pleasure building in her body, her arousal soaring suddenly as her fingers flicked her clit quickly. Tingling through her pussy down to her toes. Making her legs shake profoundly as she twirled her femininity rougher.

Her arousal's lewd noises pulsated through the air as her mouth fell open with ragged breaths, wishing Harry was here to kiss her. Wishing Draco was here to force his fingers into her maw. Wishing one had his tongue against her apex while the other fucked her mouth.

The fingers gripping her nipples shifted to the sheets as tiny mewls escaped her lips. Her body began to tense, waves of desire undulating over her core.

And the explosion of her orgasm was somewhat unexpected, her body bending at the waist, legs leaving the mattress in a full V as her head toppled backward. Surges of pleasure rippled through her as her toes pointed, her legs taught with desire as her body shook, pulsing to the tone of her walls clamping through her peak.

She was somewhat breathless as her body relaxed, quivering lightly as she laid down into the pillows. A content smile on her face but a measure of worry in her soul.

Hermione flicked her wand, cleansing herself and her newly soaked sheets before unlocking the door, slipping on her sleep clothes, and crawling back into bed. Where mortification hit her as a tear slid down her cheek. Hermione mulled over the night, waiting for her fiancé while she fought with herself about if the evening had gone too far.


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you positive you don't want me to come with you?"

"'Mi, you hate Quidditch. Besides, just the guys tonight," Harry smiled, draped head to toe in Chudley Cannons apparel, bound for his annual match in memoriam of Ron.

"I haven't seen Neville, Dean, or the Weasley men in ages."

"You saw them at our engagement celebration," Harry snickered, enveloping his arms about her neck. "If you truly wish to attend, I can request another ticket."

"No, I'm merely needy. I've missed you for so many weeks, and now you're going out without me!"

"Just have a bath and read," Harry chuckled anew, kissing the crown of her head softly. "I'm sure there's something in that library you've meant to peruse."

"Fine," she mused with a giggle.

"I'll try to be home early."

"Absolutely not! You know Ronald would have admonished you for leaving a match early," Hermione said fondly, and Harry's face fell somewhat, eyes going a touch vacant with sadness.

Hermione tasted the familiar faint twinge of sorrow roll over her, long seeded in her and Harry's minds. Running a soft hand across his chest, Hermione cupped her fiancé's cheek lovingly, his eyes clearing somewhat and descending on hers. He leaned in, touching their foreheads before peppering a few kisses on her lips and drawing backward.

"Out you go," she huffed, shooing him into the floo as he smiled softly.

Hermione sighed as the floo's fire wound down, pacing into the library and perching upon her window seat. Picking up a well-worn book Draco gifted her many Christmases ago to lose herself within for several hours. Which she did successfully, reading well into the afternoon hours, realizing she skipped lunch only as her stomach grumbled.

"I knew you'd be in here," Draco's deep voice resounded through the library.

"When am I not?" Hermione countered, mirth in her tone as she scanned the words of her text.

"When you're out with me," he simpered, pushing his body close to her thighs, staring down at her.

"Well, yes," she scoffed light-heartedly, eyeing up at him with a simper.

He looked utterly handsome, clothed in a sleek, fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos shining under a fresh coating of lotion. His collar was bound by an emerald green tie, and his jeans were pressed. Hair again pushed back and fluffy, but his glasses were missing.

And he held within his hand a plate packed with melon and a petite sandwich.

"Where are you heading all dolled up?" She sought as he folded her book, setting the plate into her lap.

"Out with Lisa," he responded.

And a ripple of disgust coursed through her. Jealousy licked at the fever that Draco's body ironed into her. Breathe tried to quicken as her subconscious flashed snapshots of him carrying Lisa in his arms. Culpability whirling as she envisioned Harry's face.

"Ah, well, that should be fun," she sniffed, trying to quell her surge of emotion.

"Possibly," he said plainly. "You'll be awake when I get home?"

"Possibly," she snarked, hoisting an eyebrow at him.

"I will see you tonight then," he smirked, running a thumb along her chin as his fingers cupped underneath her jaw.

"Tell Lisa I said hello," Hermione retorted wrinkling her nose, and she could hear the trace of irritation in her tone.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Draco chuckled, winking at her before turning on his heels, uttering, "See you tonight, Granger," on his way out.

Merlin, that man was confusing. And infuriating. Resentment and bitterness coursed through her, reading becoming a long gone option as her rampant mind refused to relent an onslaught of visions of Lisa moaning. So Hermione grabbed a bottle of wine from the kitchen, traveled up the stairs, and slumped into bed. Opting for a nap before sinking into a steaming hot bath, polishing off half of the bottle of wine without a glass.

The faint roar of the floo's song echoed through Grimmauld's halls announcing one of her men's return home some while later. Hermione sighed, discerning the sky had shifted into darkness as she floundered in her misery. Climbing out is the tub, Hermione dried herself with her wand before donning her silken sleep attire and drawing her hair into a messy bun.

"Hey, you," Draco beamed from the corner of the couch as her feet met the bottom floor. 

His gaze was light, a small grin across his lips as he tapped the couch seat beside him—her place. The position ordinarily between the two men she loved. Nestled legs beneath her as Draco's fingers brushed her thigh or held her ankle. As Harry held her close.

Hermione blushed somewhat, settling onto the cushion and drawing her legs underneath her, thighs leaving a slightly wider than usual gap between their bodies. She noticed his brow furrow slightly, eyes darting to the space twice before he almost imperceptibly shook his head.

"So… how is Lisa?" She summoned.

"We broke up," Draco replied with an uninterested, nonchalant tone.

"What?" Hermione questioned breathlessly, stunned.

"I called it quits."

"But you really liked her."

"I wouldn't say really. Lisa served a purpose."

"A purpose?" Hermione challenged with a lifted eyebrow, wholly curious.

"Which she fulfilled without issue," Draco grinned, and Hermione wanted to blanch but rolled her eyes instead.

"Well, that's a shame. I liked Lisa," she offered, but could hear the delight, relief, and exaggeration in her own tone.

Draco mocked a loud cackle as her rather blatant, highly unhidden lie split her lips, setting his head against the back of the couch and rolling his neck toward her. He held an adorable expression on his face that begged to differ, a charming tick up of his lips as one eyebrow drove a question to her words.

"What?" Hermione sought with a slightly guilty appearance.

"You hated her, Granger."

"I did not!"

"And you were awful at concealing it."

"I hid it plenty well," Hermione huffed, but her eyes widened slightly as a low, sultry chuckle reverberated in Draco's throat. "Fine. So I didn't like her."

"She didn't like you either."

"I did nothing but treat her amicably!"

"She had her reasons."

"Awful ones, I'm sure."

"I think they were very sound," he muttered, his half-lidded gaze meeting hers.

The insinuation in his tone, which swirled in his eyes, drove a deep blush up the column of her neck. Merlin, he couldn't be implying she was the reason he'd left Lisa, could he? Absolutely not. And what purpose had Lisa served? Who could have accomplished a goal other than sex in less than three months?

"Want to watch a movie?"

"Sure," she stammered a touch. "Let's watch Pri…"

"Not Pride and Prejudice."

"But it's my favorite!"

"And we've seen it a thousand times just this year."

"And we can watch it a thousand and one times."

"Hitchhikers?"

"Alright, fine," she scoffed, drawing out her final word dramatically with a playful roll of her eyes.

He stood then, plucking the movie from the shelf and inserting it into the DVD player. He'd become rather adept at muggle technology throughout the years, frequently seeking her help in learning. A small smile graced her features at their time spent learning how to drive a car together.

He turned then, and a goofy grin spread across his face as he flicked his wand, lowering the lights and igniting the fireplace.

"What?"

"Just thinking about you learning to drive a car."

"Merlin, that was boorish," he chuckled, sinking into the couch a bit closer to her than when he had left.

His legs spread slowly as he got comfortable, ending with his thigh crushed into hers unwaveringly. Hermione attempted to ignore it. To not let the heat of his form penetrate her and induce a blush.

But it was so difficult to resist the flutters in her stomach when his signature sandalwood scent invaded her senses as his arm slipped across the couch behind her. He smirked a touch, settling further into the couch, throwing his feet onto the ottoman for comfort. His right arm fell around her shoulder softly and she tried to clear the lump from her throat.

As the opening credits of the movie played, Hermione found her mind singularly focused on Draco. And his fingers that swept over her shoulder. And fiddled with the strap of her silk tank top. And his eyes that flicked to watch her occasionally. And his deep laughter as jokes sounded in the dialogue. And his thigh that nudged her frequently.

And the faint sounds of her heart beating out of her chest. And the heat on her face as it grew more crimson as the movie played. And the flutters in her gut and the pulsing behind her apex as Draco's fingers massaged her shoulders and neck.

It was no more than thirty minutes into Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy before Draco's gaze was steady on her. From her peripheral, Hermione could see his lidded eyes scanning her features. His tongue as it wet his lips and his teeth as his lower lip sank under their pressure.

"What purpose?" Hermione murmured shakily, attempting not to tear her eyes away from the tele.

"Clarity. And possibly jealousy," he responded huskily, and Hermione gasped inaudibly.

Draco's fingers slid deftly across her jaw then, brushing a thumb over her cheek as he drew her head toward his. He looked utterly divine, a hunger for her painted on his features, his eyes searing into hers as his hand traveled down her neck. An feverish smirk spread across his expression as her lips separated, her eyes falling closed with anticipation.

The familiar scent of spearmint wafted between them as his lips caressed hers.

Their first kiss.

A tender, loving kiss that was unimaginable. Wholly different than Hermione had envisioned he'd be - rough and edgy with a hint of dominance. But her fingers tingled with anticipation nonetheless, seeking out the fabric of his shirt to fist within. To draw him closer, crush their lips harder, and feel him. To drink the moment in.

His hand gradually slid into her hair, angling her head slightly as his lips parted, kissing her open-mouthed before rolling his tongue against hers. Wetting her knickers almost immediately as he lightly nibbled her lip.

She wasn't sure if the mewl of need sounded from her throat or his, but his fingers laced through her hair, tugging her head easily aside as his lips traveled to the expanse of her exposed neck. Peppering searing kisses down her jawline before his tongue skimmed along her nape teasingly, her breaths wanton and sensual as he bit her neck somewhat coarsely.

"Draco," she moaned audibly and he drew back suddenly, a lecherous look on his face as his jagged breaths forced between them.

"I had rather insightful conversations with Potter while we were away," he whispered hoarsely.

"About?" She questioned softly, her womanhood throbbing with urgency.

"You."

His fingers trailed down her shoulder and back up slowly, running along the column of her neck. She tried to breathe deeply, but the quivered gasps she welcomed elicited a gratifying chuckle from him. His fingers trailed slowly down her body then, settling atop her thigh with a light hold that drove her somewhat mad.

"Wh… what about me?"

"He has fascinating theories about you and I."

"Us…?" Hermione quivered, swallowing profoundly.

Draco's hand squeezed on her thigh, a thick exhale leaving his frame as he turned his body to face her further. The rough texture of his fingertips traced her skin and coaxed her knees to part, and she could smell the salty, unmistakable scent of arousal as the thin fabric of her shorts shifted.

"Yes, Hermione," Draco breathed, dipping in and gently touching his lips to the skin behind her ear. "Us," he murmured, and her cunt seized as his confirmation fluttered over her.

"Draco…" she whined shakily.

His hand clutched her roughly then, sliding up her thigh and urging her legs apart further. His steady hand coiled around her hip, thumb pressing into the connection of her leg and pelvis, igniting a new fire within her. Tumbling moans from her lips as her head fell back upon the couch.

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispered, his hand thrusting deeper, the heat ringing through her core.

"No…," she susurrated, her voice cracking with need.

"Good."

Draco seized her then, hauling her into his lap effortlessly, her back caressing into his chest as her head fell to his shoulder. A stiffness smoothed against her arse as his hands fell to her thigh, gripping tightly, stretching open, and draping her legs off of his own.

Hermione whined as Draco's fingers skittered up her side, her shirt riding up as his opposite hand gripped her thigh tightly. He laughed lustfully upon the side of her neck, dropping a heated kiss there as the callused fingers of his right hand grasped her left breast roughly. Kneading roughly as his fingers toyed with the edge of her fabric shorts.

"Draco…" she moaned.

"Tell me what you want."

"I…" but she couldn't vocalize, a moan overtaking her words as his hand plunged into her knickers.

Two calloused fingers skimmed to each side of her sex, but put no pressure. They were wholly still, their heat teasing her as Draco's movements stopped on her breast. Leaving her panting as his lips pressed to her neck.

"Tell me," he growled against her skin.

But she couldn't utter a word, her lips trembling as she inhaled jagged sighs. Her hips rolled once upon Draco's hand, and he chuckled darkly, his grip on her chest moving to keep her in place.

"Now, now, Granger. We shouldn't be too eager. I gave you an order," he muttered, his tongue darting down her flesh before his teeth sank into her shoulder.

"Please, Draco. Please," she whined.

"Please, what?"

"Fuck me," she whined quietly, her legs clenching as his knuckles clamped around her nub.

"Good girl," he praised, his fingers vibrated suddenly, making her slit gush.

He drew out some, only for a moment before he smoothed all of his fingers to her mound coarsely. A steady circular motion that drove her a bit mad. His thumb squeezed into her lower abdomen, and he flexed his hand against her core, curling pleasure within her figure.

His index finger and pinky caressed her folds apart, and he gently, purposely urged the other two down her clit, curling them inside her and seizing her pussy tightly. His whole arm pulsed, his digits and palm slapping the wetness of her womanhood, fucking her ruthlessly as her noisy cries saturated the room.

Her legs tensed, thrusting into the ottoman in front of them as her hips forced out upon his hand—pure pleasure streaming through to her toes as she whimpered his name. His free hand trailed up her frame, brushing the skin on her collarbone before descending across her neck. His outstretched fingers curled around one side as his thumb put a slight tension on the other.

He clenched his grasp on the walls of her throat, and she felt her cunt throb, one hand plunging to his wrist as the other fisted within his hair. Harry had never choked her before, and she lamented all she had been missing. She gasped, breathless moans tumbling from her jaws as his tongue played across her ear before his teeth drove firm indention into her shoulder anew.

"Come for me, beautiful," he whispered, his labored pace hastening as he caressed the spot below her ear.

His hand about her neck pulsed a pleasurable tightness, and the world around her shattered. An explosion of indescribable bliss radiated through her as her toes pointed, her hips thrust, and she cried loudly as the intense wave of her orgasm flowed through her.

"Draco, yes!" She wept, and his gasp ghosted across her skin, his fingers clenching inside her as her walls clamped around them.

No sooner had she come than his fingers left her slit entirely. She didn't want to open her eyes to see why, but when the room felt too silent, she had to.

Draco was gawking off at the doorway, a concerned yet satisfied look on his face. Hermione's vision followed his line of sight and crash-landed on Harry leaning against the sitting-room door frame - pure fire in his eyes.

Complete guilt and hopelessness flooded her, Hermione's knees snapped shut as she clamored off Draco's lap. Harry, her fiancé, had just witnessed her cheating with another man. With his own best mate. In his own home. On his own sofa. She hadn't even overheard him floo in beyond her own lecherous screams. She hadn't even thought of him when Draco had held her close.

Tears well in her eyes, a deep sense of sinfulness crowding out the pleasure she had just felt.

"Harry," she muttered, her voice laced with wetness as she stood shakily, her sweaty body abruptly making her want to retch.

"Keep going," Harry growled.

"Harry, I'm so sorry…" she cried.

"Keep. Going."

"What… what do you mean, Harry?"

"Granger, I believe he's asking me again to fuck you."

"Again?" She screeched, shooting Draco a somewhat scathing sneer before training her worried gaze on Harry. "We haven't! No! Harry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, laced with blame.

"Don't. I…"

"Harry, of course, I feel awful! I kissed another man when I'm engaged to you! I let him…" but she paused before reciting the words she knew he wouldn't want to hear. "Having a crush on him is one thing, but…"

"I liked it, Hermione," Harry finally snarled obstinately, a blaze burning behind his eyes that was becoming more apparent she had misread.

Hermione could see his words' authenticity as he paced into the room, the fire illuminating his frame further. The determination in his shoulders. The fierceness in his pitch. And finally, the hand in his pants, deep breaths, and the way his tongue flicked across his bottom lip.

"Wh...What?" Was all she could muster as a touch of confusion settled in.

"I liked watching you with him."

"Harry, I don't…"

"I liked watching him finger fuck you, Hermione. I liked listening to you moan his name. I enjoyed it," he insinuated, the hand in his trousers shifting as he palmed himself. "And it appears you did, too."

"I..."

"I've never wanted to fuck you more than right at this moment, Hermione. Him holding your hip at the pub, massaging your thighs on the couch. How you squirmed and blushed at his touch. It had been enough to turn me on."

"You… let Draco do that because it turned you on?" She said sternly and felt a measure of anger course through her at the guilt she had felt when Draco's touches had been purposely allowed.

"Yes. And watching you come on his fingers was so much more satisfying. I want to watch you again. I want to watch you enjoy his cock. And then I want to devour you."

He was so confident. So self-assured. So obviously turned on by having witnessed herself losing control under the pressure of Draco's fingers. And somehow, it made Hermione even madder. Rippled a disgust in her gut as her face wrinkled in abhorrence.

"Say you'll let me watch."

"It's not going to happen again, Harry! It's wrong! It's cheating!" She roared.

"Maybe I can be of some assistance here," Draco delivered as his hands attempted to snake around her waist.

Hermione tried to fight him off, to shove him away, but his hands encircled her arms, caging her against her own betraying body. Tugging her back into his chest as he held her in place.

"Earlier than you expected, Potter?" Draco hinted, somewhat smug, and Hermione felt another tinge of anger crowd her.

"Honestly, I expected it last night," Harry chuckled.

"What the bloody hell are you both talking about?" Hermione questioned, trying to flail her hands in annoyance as Draco kept her caged.

"I told you, Potter and I had interesting conversations."

"Explain," Hermione demanded.

"Did you hear me say I'd kiss you any moment that I possibly could last night?" Draco asked quietly, kissing the space behind her ear.

"Yes," she tried to snarl, but her knees shook slightly at his soft lips.

"What you missed after was Potter begging me to. Every time we got drunk on assignment, he'd beg me to take you while he watched."

"It's true," Harry said firmly when Hermione's gaze sought his in shock.

"We talked in length about how he thinks you love me, Hermione," Draco murmured, his voice cracking.

"I…," she remarked breathlessly, faltering as a surprise curled within her.

"I couldn't stop pondering it," Draco growled, pulling her impossibly closer, and she could feel his manhood upon her lower back. "I laid awake every night for five weeks straight thinking about fucking you, Hermione. Not for the first time, I assure you."

"I only intended to kiss you tonight. To see if you'd even respond."

"You planned this?" She attempted to ask accusatorially, but her tone read as enthusiastic.

"For it to get this far tonight, no. But I couldn't stop myself when you moaned my name."

"Draco…" she muttered, her resolve faltering under the weight of his words.

"And now here your fiancé stands, cock in hand, asking me again to make love to the woman I love? I truly could not be a luckier man."

"You love me?" Hermione charged on a shuddered exhale, her head snapping to meet his gaze.

"Desperately."

His lips joined with hers then, passion pulsating with each connection of skin that battled away any irritation she still held. His hand skirted her figure, settling tenderly upon the side of her throat. Holding her in place as his tongue pressed into her mouth, mixing with her own and making her knees weak.

"Will you allow me to please you, Hermione?" Draco whispered against her lips, gliding his free hand back into her sleep shorts and roughly cupping her mound.

Her sights shifted to Harry, and his heated stare was trailing the expanse of her body, lingering between her thighs for a moment. His tongue skimmed across his lower lip, drawing it between his teeth with raw indentations that showed the passion inside him. Hermione hadn't seen that measure of hunger on his face in many years as he seized himself tightly. And she let herself savor it as Draco palmed her apex deliberately.

"Yes," she sighed.

Draco's grip tightened around her middle then, two fingers rubbing slow circles upon her cunt as his relieved exhalation traced her skin. He drew her backward slowly, twirling her, and Hermione welcomed the softness of the ottoman upon her calves. He smirked lewdly before gripping her arse and stepping in close, swiping his tongue upon her lips for access. She admitted it, parting hers and welcoming his tongue anew.

His fingers danced with the hem of her sleep shirt before he lofted it over her head. Chill spread across her figure, hardening her nipples, but not for long. Draco tugged his shirt off hastily and lured her in. The warmth of his brawny abdomen fired her core as his lips joined with hers once more, more melodious this time. His hand skated about her back, and she felt herself sinking backward, settling against the luxurious cushion of the ottoman behind her.

"I wish you could see how beautiful you look, Hermione," Draco expressed as his knees thrust hers open, bending over her and touching his lips to hers anew.

His heated kisses fell to her chin, his tongue trailing slowly down the column of her neck as she moaned softly. He caressed each of her breasts carefully before drawing a nipple between his teeth. Her body quivered as his palm seized her free bosom, kneading deliberately as he laved her areola.

His tongue slipped further down her body moments later, slowly swiping along the hem of her sleep shorts, soaking her slit with desire. He knelt before her then, drawing her arse to the edge of the ottoman smoothly. And her body tensed with anticipation.

Two fingers slid into the waistband of her sleep shorts as his hands retreated, tugging them down deliberately as he kissed the wet trail her knickers left behind. She could smell her arousal permeate the room, and her face flushed when he inhaled deeply, shakily exhaling as excitement overwhelmed his features.

Draco's hot pointer slid into her folds, toying with her clit as he struck her apex. Twirling her nub between two fingers as his thumb teased her opening. 

"You're so ready for me, Granger," he grinned darkly before smacking her pussy.

The lewd sound his slap made caused her body to crimson as the sheer force carried a fervor deep within her womb. She saw him smirk heatedly, inhale deeply, and then his mouth was on her. A hot tongue flicked up her center, and her back arched instinctively, her hands falling into his hair as he flicked his tongue quickly upon her.

Harry's gaze over the blonde tresses between her thighs was littered with greed as he stroked himself casually. Enjoying the view of Draco skillfully dining on her femininity, praising her apex as if it were a treat intended for the gods. He noticed Hermione's gaze on his bulge and smirked, firing her a salacious wink as Draco nibbled on her clit, making her hips buck anew.

Indelicate moans overfilled the room as Draco buried two fingers deep within her slit. Hooking them and pulsing his hand against her g-spot. Her back arched over, her head falling back as her eyes slipped shut, petite grunts permeating the air as he pumped into her, sucking her clit with small nibbles.

Harry appeared at her side then, drawing one of her hands from Draco's hair. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze as he wrapped her fingers about his hard arousal with an enthusiastic grin. His hand persuaded her to grip him tighter.

Her hands trembled around him as she began to frantically pump to and fro, twisting as she stroked his long shaft. His seethes of approval flooded her as Draco rammed a third finger into her core. And when her movements froze as her body began to quiver, Harry's hand befell hers, repeatedly pumping as she came.

Her back curved as her legs closed around Draco's head, holding him in place as Harry used her hold to gratify himself. Her hips reared against Draco's ministrations as cries of bliss steeped the room. Her body quivered, her hand jerking Harry as her walls clamped wholly around Draco's fingers, her legs loosening as they tensed with glee.

Draco's firm grasp about her waist pulled her up suddenly as the fog of her orgasm cleared, flipping her as her knees drove into the ottoman. She hadn't even remarked that both of their warmth had left her form. Her arms shook as she tried to hold herself up, and Harry's hand cupped her chin, drawing her eyes to his lust-filled gaze.

"You're such a good girl, Hermione. I can't wait to see you take his cock."

Draco's deep chuckle ghosted across her skin before his lips caressed her arsecheek. A moment following, the tip of his manhood slipped between her lower lips. And she moaned out as he pressed it to her sex, massaging a few circles before skimming through her wetness. Readying himself.

A shuddered gasp followed a powerful moan as Draco's girth thrust slowly into her slit. Sliding in and out centimeter by centimeter until he was sheathed fully inside her wetness, a groan rumbling in his throat as his nails dug into her full hips.

"Fucking hell, Granger. You're so tight," Draco keened, his large hand grasping her whole arsecheek roughly for some sort of stability.

Pushing her forward, Draco drew her back slowly, allowing her to crave his organ as it slid into her core. He set a smooth, slow rhythm as Harry stroked himself before her. Until his grip tightened upon her hips, and her arse smacked against him when he drove into her. Deeply. Roughly. Passionately.

His long length forced into her as her legs trembled, her arm quivering and scarcely holding her weight as pleasure tingled through her veins. As her mouth fell open in salacious outcries of his name.

Harry's hand gripped her jaw then as he leaned over and crushed their lips together in a searing kiss. Their tongues danced as Harry snogged her, swallowing the moans that Draco hammered out of her. 

Harry's lips left hers too quickly, and she wept at the loss of contact. Only for a moment before his foot perched beside her, his knee bent as a hand plunged into her hair. He tugged her tresses somewhat roughly, drawing her head back, and she gasped at the frisson of pleasure their mutual ministrations offered.

And the tip of Harry's manhood swept over her lip, forcing slowly inside as Hermione hugged her tongue to the underside. She wailed deeply as her neck bobbed, Harry's thrusts meeting Draco's pace as they fucked her from either end.

Hermione sensed Draco grip her arse then, stretching her cheeks apart before wetness fell upon her arsehole. His thumb played around her opening for a moment before pressing gently against it. And Hermione welcomed the unfamiliar yet heavenly sensation that pulsed in her with a sensual plaint vibrated around Harry's shaft.

Both Draco and Harry chuckled huskily, her fiancé's hand tightening in her curls as Draco's thumb slid into her arsehole. Her body stiffened as he vibrated his finger, adding extra friction to him and Harry's already deep thrusts. A litany of moans reverberated around Harry's rod and Hermione's eyes welled with tears of pleasure. As her fingers clutched the ottoman, her hands trembling with hunger.

"Look at you, Granger," Draco snarled. "Loving all of your holes filled."

"Shaking," Harry added behind a breathless moan.

"Being such a good girl," Draco groaned.

And the delight of her praise, of her satisfaction, waved over her. Humming her happiness against Harry's cock as he groaned, snapping his hips into her mouth as Draco did the same to her utterly sensitive sheath.

The hot salt of Harry's orgasm was sudden as it swelled her mouth. He groaned aloud, holding her head in place as he milked himself down her throat with frantic snaps of his hip as she gagged. He was inhaling deeply as he withdrew, his lips replacing the heat of his manhood in a searing kiss as Hermione swallowed his love.

Draco's pace slowed to a stop then, before his member left her cold. Harry's kisses became softer and slower before he was gone, and she whimpered at her new emptiness. 

A hard chest pressed into her back then, peppering kisses to her shoulder blades, neck, and head. A firm arm drew her upward into his chest and softly turned her, setting her back lightly against the ottoman.

Hermione's legs fell open as her eyes fluttered the same, allowing Draco access as he hovered over her form. The weight of his body enveloped her as he rubbed himself upon her center, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. Delicate moans rumbled within their mouths at the friction of his organ against her utterly sensitive peak. He rocked his hips twice more and groaned as he lined himself, pressing back into her slowly.

When she raised her legs and coiled them around him, shifting the angle, he moaned, sliding his hands under her shoulders as his whole weight fell atop her. The pressure of his body and the heat between her legs made her weep out as he fucked her gently, her trembling fingers clawing at his back and his arms. She could feel every long stroke as his head fell to her shoulder, caging her in.

"Draco, please," she whispered, and his body vibrated with a deep growl.

His pace grew punishing then, but her cunt welcomed it, begged for more. Wept for the slam of his hips against hers and the feel of every long centimeter of him. She could feel tension budding again, a tingle of sheer ecstasy invading her femininity as she snapped her hips, meeting his rhythm.

"Fuck," he grunted as his movement became frantic, his fingers digging into her shoulders as he punished her slit. Her body pleaded to come again, her legs shaking as her loud cries permeated the air.

"You're perfect, Hermione," he moaned, and her pleasure soared at the music of her given name sounded from his lips.

Her feet pointed, fingernails digging into his back. Her body shivered, and she squandered all control as she toppled off the cliff, her orgasm pulsing throughout her entire body. Curling her toes. Stealing her breaths, her moans. Every thought in her mind other the feel of his cock as it rammed inside her.

"I love you," Hermione whispered as her body convulsed, walls clamping around her lover's cock.

Draco moaned loudly as he forced into her once, twice, thrice more before his cock twitched. Letting her fluttering walls milk him for all he was worth. His lips connected with hers anew, in a languidly kiss as he rocked his hips slowly. Riding out the lasts of their orgasms as kisses became delicate.

By the time her eyes fluttered open, she was relaxing nestled in Harry's lap on the sofa, her legs stretched across Draco's lap. Their three breaths were ragged as Harry summoned glasses of water, helping her drink sips as their racing hearts calmed.

"Hey, mate…" Harry started. "Do you think you'd…"

"Are you going to ask me to make love to your fiancé again, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"Deal," Draco responded resolutely.

"Wha..."

"I said deal, Potter. As long as I get to be with Hermione, I can accept this. But let me make something very clear. If you are allowing this, I intend to do it until the day I can no longer move."

Draco's eyes shifted to her orbs with the same passion she had seen right before he kissed her for the first time. And she couldn't help but swallow thickly to try and clear the lump from her throat.

"Do you agree?" Draco whispered, their eyes locked.

"Ye…" Harry started, but Draco held up a hand.

"I wasn't asking you, Potter."

Her mind raced as her gaze shifted to Harry, seeking any form of disapproval her fiancé may hold. Of which she found nothing. Harry was smiling softly with an eyebrow raised before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

Slowly her eyes trailed back to Draco. He hadn't looked away when she sought out Harry, her fiancé. His intense gaze had remained trained to hers, his silver orbs shining passionately. Almost imploringly.

Visions of their laughter fluttered to the forefront of Hermione's mind. Sights of all three enjoying countless evenings together on the couch or in the back of a pub. Draco's late-night conversations in the library and Harry's smiling face when they danced in the kitchen. Both of their current wanton gazes as they awaited her answer.

Why couldn't she have them both? Why couldn't she be selfish for once in her life? They both wanted this. They both wished to be with her. Both craved to hold her and love her.

So why couldn't they be three?

"Do you agree?"

"... Yes," she said quietly, nodding her head as a soft smile grew across her lips.

"Frankly, Potter," Draco started as a salacious grin grew over his lips, "I take this as blanket permission to make love to our fiancé anytime I please. And I intended to do it at minimum once a day."

"Our?" Hermione questioned breathlessly.

"Yes, our. Regardless of what happens, I meant what I said. I do not intend to let you go."

He stood then, his hands cupping her knees and cradling her back as he hoisted her into the air. Hermione shifted her arms around her new fiancé's neck and softly caressed her lips to his. His hand tensed on her legs, and a shuddered breath of desire passed his lips as she drew back.

"Come, love," he whispered. "Let's celebrate our engagement."

"You're more than welcome to join us, Potter, but we'll be going again now," Draco growled, drawing her impossibly closer as his feet pushed into action, directed towards his bed.

Hermione ventured a fleeting glance at her first fiancé over Draco's shoulder. Harry looked pensive for a moment, but his sights snapped to her retreating form quickly, heatedly. A delicious smirk grew over his lips as he rose, his bedroom eyes regarding her as he trailed them to Draco's room.


End file.
